


Many happy returns

by Melanie_D_Peony



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Birthday Fluff, Birthday Party, Budding Love, Childhood Trauma, Everything is Beautiful and Nothing Hurts, Friendship, Gentleness, M/M, Mild Language, Office Party, Pre-Season/Series 02, almost, emulsifiers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:21:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23596777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melanie_D_Peony/pseuds/Melanie_D_Peony
Summary: Ever since he's been appointed to the position of Head Archivist, Jon's relationship with his coworkers has been tense to say the least. So it's no surprise that he is baffled when Martin invites him to tag along to an ice cream parlor for his birthday party.How he ended up lecturing them on emulsifiers, however, is still a bit of a mistery.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 23
Kudos: 166





	Many happy returns

It goes about as well as Jon has expected. Which is to say, it's catastrophic. 

It's not only because of his new appointment that still smoulders on his shoulder like a fresh branding left by a hot poker. It's uncomfortable for Jon. It's uncomfortable for everyone. He'd never meant to accept it - bloody hell, he didn't even apply. That is because he is less qualified, less experienced and just overall less competent than poor, quietly efficient Sasha. Not something that he'd flaunt in front of any of his coworkers, course, but he told Elias just that in the privacy if his office. At least he thinks he did. He can't recall anything that happened after he'd closed the door on himself and the esteemed leader of the Institute. When he came to, Elias was shaking his hand and he was staring down at a contract signed with his name, in his handwriting. The idea of lost time was so terrifying that he decided not to contemplate it too much. Instead he dived in the work with the arrogance and determination of someone fully aware of their own inadequacy. Desperate to make something of himself as a form of a walk to Canossa.

But that alone doesn't explain why he'd been blabbering at Sasha and Tim about emulsifiers for twenty minutes straight.

That, unfortunately, has more to do with him as a person.

He takes a brief break to bite into his rum and raisin. He sighs heavily into the flavour. Pathetic or not, that's what he enjoys. Reading about emulsifiers. Rare species. Facts about volcanoes and texts on sociology. Doing crosswords and eating ice creams with flavours like rum and raisin. Quiet nights in front of movies so outdated, they come mostly in black and white or with people wrapped in rubber suits as supposed monsters in a primitive, early form of trick shots. 

All but a result of being brought up by an old lady, surely. Traits that would usually make him wildly unpopular. But in the Archives, he felt accepted at least. His penchant for collecting weird tidbits and disappearing down in rabbit holes of weird lines of inquiry finally paid off as a researcher of the paranormal. He could justify his particular interest in the macabre he harbored since his early encounter with that Leitner. He was still mocked for being a nerd, sure, but in a gentle kind of way, not like back in the days. It was all going so well. It was almost nice.

Until this stupid appointment.

Now he was back at being an outsider, standing by the window, looking longingly in. Sasha barely spoke to him outside of discussing professional matters and he was yet to hear Tim using the word "boss" unironically at him.

So he was talking about emulsifiers because he knew a lot about them anyway, and also to show this mask of relentless researcher, this adamant academic. To give a reason why he'd been elected to a pedestal he definitely should not occupy. To prove that while Jonathan Sims might not be the best researchers in the Archives, he is the most diligent, which is the reason behind _him_ getting the Head Archivist position. 

But of course, the act is doing nothing to portray him in a favourable light. _No one likes being lectured about emulsifiers, Sims_ , he reminds himself as Tim stifles a yawn, before rolling his eyes at Sasha. 

And to think that this could all have been avoided if only he stepped out of the office a couple moments later.

It's just that he was so deeply involved in that statement when he left to make a cup of tea in the office kitchenette. Otherwise he would have surely heard the ungodly ruckus the three assistants were making. But instead he froze on the spot, deer in the headlight of their stares. They looked caught out, like a bunch of rowdy children. 

'What's going on here?' He asked, but the image was quite self explanatory anyway. Sasha and Tim had their arms hooked through Martin's, who sported a stupid party hat. Confetti scattered against their shoulders.

'We are taking the birthday boy out for lunch.' Tim grinned. Of course, it was lunch hour, he had no reason to trample on their fun. Still, the air filled with awkwardness that gathered cold and heavy in his chest like an anaerobic gas, making it somehow hard to breath. 

'Very well.' Jon nodded. 'Just make sure you are back by one.' With that he tried to shuffle past the trio when Martin's voice made him halt again. 

'Wait, Jon. Why don't you come with us too?' 

He tried very hard to ignore Sasha's barely audible little groan, while Tim rushed in to interrupt.

'Martin, I don't think boss man would enjoy coming to an ice cream parlor.' 

'Oh.' There was such sincere disappointment in Martin's voice that Jon couldn't help turning around. The newest Archival assistant had been the bane of Jon's life so far, the straw that was going to break his metaphorical back. A big, glowing sign of his total incompetence - he could not display enough authority to school an otherwise qualified researcher like Martin into doing his job properly. Martin was slacking daringly, not bothering with proper referencing even. Clearly, he felt he had nothing to fear from such a useless Archivist like Jon. His research was sloppy, his composure overly, mockingly sweet. Taunting Jon at every turn, surely. The Archivist actively despised the man.

And yet… Contemplating the sudden bashfulness of Martin, he couldn't help but think that his desire to include Jon in the fun could not have been a facade. Martin acted like it took all of his courage to ask out someone as high and mighty as Jon. It made him think about his attitude towards his coworkers lately. Shutting himself away in his ivory tower of an office, making everyone feel as inferior as he did. 

'No,' he heard himself say before he could stop it from happening. 'I'd love to join, actually.' 

And curse Martin, he actually lit up like a bloody Christmas tree while behind him the face of the others visibly fell.

Now, if he could go back, he would stuff that statement in his own stupid mouth and continue towards the kitchen. Because despite his initial enthusiasm, the birthday boy didn't say two words since they sat down in their booth and sweating under the unhappy glower of Sasha and Tim, Jon found himself infodumping about emulsifiers, unprompted.

He does not miss the minute way Sasha bumps Tim's elbow with her own. He expects her to produce another eye roll, or to gesture at her watch to imply it's time to leave. Instead, Sasha nods with her head towards where Martin sits. 

Jon risks as glance, then another one because he can't believe his eyes. Martin's chin is propped on his hands as he listens with rapturous attention to his mini improv show about colloids. There's a dumbstruck half smile on Martin's lips like there's something endearing about Jon's pointless blabbering and it almost makes Jon choke on his words. But luckily, he still has a tirade under his sleeve about repulsion theory. He can't bare Martin's adoration however, so he focuses intently on his napkin as he wraps it all up.

'Well, boss, that was enlightening, but I'm afraid it's time to go back to the office.' Tim says mercifully, as Sasha reaches out for Martin's hand across the table.

'Did you have fun?' She asks gently and with concern and Martin doesn't turn his eyes away from Jon as he answers a little breathlessly. 

'Oh yes, it was all very lovely.' 

Sasha shares a stupified smile with Tim, who simply shrugs and they all get ready to leave. Out in the street Tim and Sasha take the lead, while he walks a little way back, next to Martin, determined not to say anything for the rest of the day. But Martin bumps into his arm, almost as if by accident.

'Thank you, Jon.' He says in a small voice and the Archivist takes a rapid glance at him.

'For what?' He asks despite himself and Martin chuckles.

'The emulsifiers?' He replies and Jon thinks that it must be sarcasm, but Martin's smile is relentless and honest. He is pretty sure that he is having a stroke. Either that or he is the butt end of some pretty mean spirited trick. 

'Anytime.' he chances a little banter anyway. 'In fact, you can tune in next week for more on Non-Newtonian fluids.' 

It's a shitty joke, he makes sure to make it sound like an apology. But Martin laughs a little. There's some kind of wonky quality to his smile however, making Jon force himself to ask despite his trepidation. 

'Are you okay, Martin?' 

'Why wouldn't I be?' His assistant shrugs, quickly turning his treacherous facial expression away.

Jon's every fibre and very nationality is against the idea of digging deeper in somebody's personal business. There are alarms blaring inside his head as he continues, willing himself to press on.

'Because you just thanked me for an impromptu lesson on egg yolk and soy lecithin.'

'It was interesting.' Martin insists.

'No. No it wasn't. So?' 

'Oh please, let's not do this. Tim and Sasha put so much effort in my party, I don't want to appear ungrateful.' 

'No, I get that you are disappointed.' Jon hurries to say. 'What kind of person suggests an ice cream parlor for a festive meal?'

'Jon.' Martin flashes a manic grin at him. 'That was _my_ request.'

Bloody hell. Jon shrinks back in on himself a little bit, preparing for the ensuing row. But when he looks at Martin, the man's smile is open, welcoming, suggesting that he is ready for some light self deprecation. 

'I stand by what I said.' Jon says kindly, in hopes of coaxing out another little laughter and he is not disappointed. His whole chest, face, soul seems to warm up at the sound. He is not usually funny or entertaining - though Martin seems to think the opposite despite all the evidence on the contrary. 'But if not the setting, than what _is_ the matter?'

Martin lets out a breath, rolling his eyes towards the sky and his voice is a small, quivering thing, huddling from an unseen threat as he speaks.

'Nothing. Having ice cream with all the people I like. It was perfect.'

Jon's mind is busy pulling in all the breaks at that. All the people Martin likes. Does that mean Jon too? The Archivist who seems to always be on Martin's case, berating him for some mistake or another? The Jonathan Sims who privately called him a "useless ass"? The mere thought is mind boggling, which makes him have a sudden epiphany.

'Well, sorry for imposing then, but you know, you shouldn't have offered if you didn't want me to come.' He tries to, wants to sound calm, cold and professional. But to his own ears he simply sounds hurt. He looks away from the man next to him, which makes him nearly bump into a pedestrian. When he returns to Martin's gaze, the man's expression has warped itself into something akin to genuine concern.

'What are you on about, Jon? I invited you. For one thing, if you weren't there, I would have spent the whole time bawling in my ice cream.' 

'Now there is something to say for the depressing quality of lame office parties. But I gather that's not what's bothering you about today.' Jon gently prompts, somewhat mollified. He navigates around a lamp post, then they are all forced to wait at an intersection and he observes as Martin nervously worries his lips. He seems to have come to a decision when the traffic light changes and as they begin to walk again, he says.

'What would you think if I were to say that this was my first birthday party?' 

'That you are a bit too young to work in the Archives?' It's not that Jon doesn't feel the levity of that sentence. It's quite the opposite. He is now putting his carefully cultivated dignity at stake here, to ease Martin's troubled frown. 'You don't mean that literally, do you? More like, the first one in ages or something?' 

Martin gives him a meaningful look and something unusual happens to Jon, who is quite disenitised to personal tragedies by now, having worked in the archives for a while. He feels upset on Martin's behalf. 

'But... how come?' 

'I don't think I've ever told you guys, but my mother is a pretty sickly woman. I've been her carer ever since I can remember. It didn't leave much room for party hats, balloons and ice cream.'

Jon contemplates these words while studying his own feet as they get closer to the Institute by the minute. He is desperate to offer something meaningful to the confession, but he knows from experience how little the empty phrases and aphorisms matter in the face of a tragedy. At least this explains the juvenile choice of venue, he thinks kindly. 

Meanwhile Martin feels compelled to fill the silence.

'So you might imagine that having all these childish ideals fulfilled at once is a little bit overwhelming.' He confesses as he rubs furiously at his wet eyes.'

'I'm sorry, Martin.' Jon finally caves in at that, his regret at using such a cliché only increases as Martin's hands flutter up in a gesture of dismissal. 

'None of that nonsense, please Jon. I'm not telling this to you, because I want your pity. I just needed you to know that I appreciate the gesture. Even if I don't look it. And I fully expect you to tell me off tomorrow if you are unhappy with my follow up on the Laylow statement, ok?'

'Tomorrow? I was expecting that file this afternoon, Martin.' Jon exclaims in mock horror, earning himself the full force of Martin's grin.

'Good answer.' He chortles as they enter the cool abyss of the Institute. 'But enough about me. How do you feel about your new position of power, Mr Head Archivist?' 

Jon has a selection of professional responses to that, vague, vacant phrases about self fulfillment and enjoyment of new challenges. But looking at Martin's encouraging face, he shrugs in the least official manner. 

'A bit out of my depth, if I'm being honest.' Martin simply nods at that.

'I think I can relate.' He offers, but before Jon has a chance to ask what he means, they enter the office and the lights go out at once. The last thing he hears is Martin's desperate little " _oh, no_ " before Rosie steps in with a large cake with a frankly appalling amount of lit candles on it. Jon chokes down a comment about fire hazard. Instead he joins in with their rendering of "Happy Birthday" and watches sadly as Martin's painfully stacked walls all crumble when the man breaks into bittersweet sobs. Still standing near him, he puts his hand reassuringly on Martin's back and the assistant leans into the touch a bit as he wipes the unending succession of his tears. 

The last notes of the song die down a bit uncertainly. There's a beat of an awkward silence before Tim shouts into the thick air of the office and pats Sasha playfully on the shoulder.

'See, I told you that he won't like the Black Forest. Martin is obviously the chocolate cake type!' 

There's a relieved murmur of mild laughter and Martin himself chuckles the loudest between renewed fits of sobs as he struggles to gather enough breath to blow the candles out. Rosie retreats to the kitchen to slice the cake, while Sasha draws Martin aside, talking to him in a quiet, soothing voice, conjuring a box of tissues apparently from thin air in the process.

That leaves Jon hovering awkwardly by Tim. Feeling a bit unsteady himself, he turns to his other assistant.

'You planned a nice event here.' He comments.

'Yeah. Too bad the only part Martin cared about was your presence, boss.' Tim offers him a twisted grin, that makes Jon's usual attire feel strangely tight at the neck. 

'He told me that he appreciated the gesture.' Jon responds, suppressing the urge to begin to fan himself. How can the air be so stuffy in a climate controlled environment, he wonders. His cheeks are most definitely on fire.

'Oh, so that's what you two have been whispering about?' Tim's tone is an innuendo in itself and Jon briefly considers reminding him of some HR guidelines, before he continues. 'Sure has a weird way of showing it.' 

'It's just that he is really touched.' Jon hurries to say and he doesn't miss Tim's expression of honest worry.

'I just hope I didn't offend. Some people are touchy about their age like that. It might have been too many candles.' 

'It was _definitely_ too many candles.' Jon confirms, not missing a chance to scold him. But he uses a much gentler tone as he continues 'But you made Martin very happy.' 

'It wasn't that big of a deal.' Tim scratches the back of his head in a gesture of uncertainty and Jon sighs heavily, while Rosie returns with a tray full of individual slices of cake. 

'It is for some.' He says for no one is particular as they all move as one to grab some treats. 

The rest of the day is a complete waste. Sasha forces Martin to eat an extra slice of cake as an artificial source of serotonin and Tim rattles off a regular stand up routine's worth of his shenanigans to lift his spirit. Jon doesn't even begin to contemplate making them go back to work and he sends them home early at the end, promising to sort things out with Elias. Tim looks impressed and forces Martin with gentle coerce to join him for drinks at the Queen's Head. Jon is about to return to his office to finish the statement he abandoned, when he hears Sasha's light cough behind him. He turns to face his young "rival", uncertain as always as to what to expect from her. An angry outburst is high on the list of Jon's wagers. But Sasha contemplates him with an expression that is simply curious and… fond? 

'It is nice to see you treat him like a human being every once in a while.' She says, crossing her arms, tilting her head, meaning Martin of course.

'It is his birthday, after all. But that doesn't mean that he can't expect retributions if he doesn't pick the pace up in future.' Jon huffs and he quickly realises how cold his tone has become. Sasha here is clearly offering a chance to bury the hatchet and his first instinct is to react like the pompous prick he is. He purposefully softens his tone as he continues. 'But I do recognise that I've been a bit hard on him lately.' 

'You are hard on everybody, especially yourself.' Sasha's criticism is not unkind. 'Ease up, Jon. Why don't you join us for a drink tomorrow after work?' 

Jon is only capable of staring for a moment. He hasn't been invented since he'd gotten his promotion. Sure he used to decline these offers, so maybe the others simply got tired of asking. But the lack of prompting felt a bit too vindictive to be a mere coincidence. 

'Yeah. That would be good.' He whispers, gladly taking what appears to be a peace offering. 

Sasha simply nods before bidding goodbye, leaving Jon to contemplate the dishevelled state of the office. 

It was a truly disastrous kind of a day, all in all. But the thing with desolation is that at least it offers a clean, new slate to build on.  
  



End file.
